I am so tired I want to crawl up my own ass and have a nap. Yes, not the first place that springs to everyone's mind as a retreat of choice. However, I need somewhere, dark, un-crowded and most importantly somewhere no one (namely my small humans) would even think I would be. A place they would be too shit scared to even look.

Ladies, I give you my asshole. The one place I will surely be safe from the screams and demands of a tiny toddler, the wails of a hungry newborn (who surely cannot STILL be hungry after being attached to my boob 24/7) and the forever growing washing pile and sticky fingered windows I can no longer see out of let alone summon up the energy to be arsed to wipe clean.

Please someone, anyone, tell me when will this rational thought destroying and soul sucking fatigue end?! When will there be a differentiation between night and day? When will I stop telling the time by how much my boobs resemble small heads wearing tiny brown hats? And when oh when will my bottom stop looking like a good place to stick my head up?!

I want (no screw that), I NEED to know that there is an end to this torture. That my life currently made up of never ending nights and fuzzy days will at some point start to resemble something of my previous one. A life where 4am is not a lie in. In fact a life where 4am can go fuck itself completely unless it involves me dancing my ass off under neon lights after enjoying copious amounts of overpriced yet deliciously potent cocktails. That is the only way 4am should EVER exist in my consciousness.

Please tell me this. How the hell am I supposed to be able to keep myself let alone a tiny being alive and safe if I don't even have the energy to remember my own name let alone the time of the last feed or where the hell I put the 2am nappy? I am sure the late night poo parcel will turn up eventually...No doubt signalled by an overwhelming urge to wretch as I catch an unexpected nose full of the eau de turd my little one has perfected.

The life of a mum of a new born and let's face it of any sleep depriving demon commonly known as our offspring, is one that stretches out before us in one continuous fug (aka fuzzy fog) of feeds, dirty nappies, swollen boobs, sterilising and pacing the hallway all whilst fighting murderous urges towards your snoring partner -Oh, if you just had the energy to weight down that pillow over his smug and peaceful face!

Lack of sleep and lusting after a full unbroken four hours of it, consumes our every waking thought which due to the nature of the bitch that is sleepless nights means we are consumed by it 24/7. We post about it on Facebook, discuss it on forums, resent those getting it and plead to anyone who will listen to share any pearls of wisdom on how to get our little ones to sleep for longer than two lousy hours at a time.

Oh, the golden chalice of a four hourly schedule. The joy of a 6:30am lie in. The dare I say it (for fear it won't ever happen) unadulterated pleasure of being able to get into bed knowing you will not have to be out of it for a blissful seven hours. When oh when will you be mine?

I tell you when. "Who the fuck knows o'clock" is when.

In the meantime peeps you know where to find me....

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